How We Got Here
by Laylz
Summary: She's lost in a lonely world. He's lost in his personal, angry Hell. They're right for each other, in all the wrong ways. But they'll get there, eventually. Dual POVs. AH. OCC ExB 'I don't know how we got here, I'm not sure we can go back. We've lost our way, off the beaten track.'


**Chapter 1:**

 **My New Castle**

Disclaimer: Twilight is not mine.

Warning: I'm a little twisted, so the story might get that way, too.

* * *

 **~ Edward ~**

Fucking fantastic.

I kick the wheel of the dead car, but that just fucking hurts. "Fuck!"

Emmett just laughs, still sitting in the car. It's a shitty Volvo. Esme took away my Mercedes when I crashed it into a ditch for the second time. I'm not sure if that was the time I was fucked up beyond belief, or the time I was racing Mike.

"Fucking car," I mutter, pulling out my hair.

Emmett is on the phone, probably with Rose, probably kissing her ass. Of all days, it's today that the shitty car decides it's going to be extra shitty. We're on the side of some unpaved dirt road, already late. We're supposed to be back on time to meet the new girl, fucking Bella.

As if Esme and Carlisle haven't got enough kids – they're just waiting for the perfect one to come through the door, and it wasn't any of us five, so they're hoping it'll be her. Whatever, fuck them.

I kick the wheel again, harder this time. It hurts more. I yell louder. "FUCK!"

Emmett steps out, shaking his head, eyes rolling. "Rose is coming to get us. Esme says we'll get the car tomorrow, have someone tow it."

"Just leave it," I mutter. Hopefully someone tries to steal it, and hopefully they succeed. I'm tired of that piece of shit.

"Bella arrived twenty minutes ago."

I don't want to be interested, but I'm curious. "What did Rose say?"

"She said she's a fucking bitch."

I snort. "Rose says that about everyone." It's true.

Emmett glares, is silent for a couple minutes, and then he gets over it.

"Carry on," I say, opening the car door and reaching for the glovebox, where I have a half-empty cartoon of cigarettes. I offer Emmett one, but he shakes his head.

"So, she's got pretty much jack shit with her and she's got bruises on her face."

I light up my cigarette and step out of the car. The only thing that hasn't gone fucking wrong today is the weather – the rain clouds are dark, but the rain has held off so far.

"And her hands are all fucked up and bandaged. Rose reckons she got into a fight at wherever the hell she was."

I shrug. Doesn't take a genius to add those together. Which is good, because otherwise Rose wouldn't have figured it out.

We stand there in silence and when I finish my cigarette, I flick the butt into a puddle. "How much fucking longer is she going to be?"

Two minutes later, her red convertible pulls up beside us. She glares at me and I wink at her. "Dick," she mutters as I get into the back.

"Dude, lock your car," Emmett sighs.

"Why?"

"Because that's what you're supposed to do."

"Yeah, but it's a piece of shit-"

Rose spins around and glares at me. "Just fucking do it."

I do, but not because I take orders from her, because I can't be fucked having another argument today. I still have at least another week of kissing Esme's ass before she lets me off the hook for that shitty weekend that was, like, two months ago. The woman knows how to hold a grudge.

We drive into the house and there's some cheap, shitty ass car in the driveway that makes the whole house look cheaper. It looks even shittier than my shitty Volvo. I chuckle as we drive passed it and Rose tells me I'm a dick.

* * *

The day somehow goes from shit to shittier to the shittiest. I fucking hate Thursdays.

Carlisle drags me and Emmett aside into the kitchen and whisper-yells at us because the new girl and her social worker are in the living room and we need to keep up the perfect family bullshit at least until the social worker leaves, lest we scare away his future princess.

Then he tells us we can go into the living room, if we're ready to behave ourselves. Emmett nods, face the perfect mask of respectful courtesy, so Carlisle sends him in. I smile, and there must be something in it that puts Carlisle off, because he sends me to my room.

I tell him that's fucking bullshit.

"Don't take that tone with me, Edward, and watch your language. You can stay in your room until I say otherwise. I haven't got time to walk you through everything that I was going to tell you before, but you were late-"

"That bullshit car you got me broke down! You can't flip that shit on me!"

He glares at me, eyes narrowing. "Go to your room. I'll deal with you later."

"This is bullshit," I protest, but he's already walking away.

I grab a water from the fridge and an apple from the fruit bowl and then storm up the stairs, stomping extra loud. I hear laughter flitting from the living room, and that just pisses me off more, so I slam my door.

I don't care that Esme's going to pull out that old "This is childish, this is immature" lecture later, because I plan on getting too fucked up to give a shit anyway.

I walk into my room, throw the apple and the bottle of water onto the bed and then walk over to my sock drawer, reviewing what we have in stock today. It's a small stash, but I tip the white powder onto the dresser and use a stray piece of paper to line it up into three neat lines.

It's only after I've snorted it all that I realise the stray piece of paper is my final notice from school. I laugh.

* * *

 **~ Bella ~**

My heart sinks as I watch Lola's car disappear down the driveway. I don't want to go back inside alone so I sit on the porch steps and try to relax.

The rain is pouring it down now, but it's dry here.

I rest my elbows on my knees and twist my hands into the roots of my hair. My heart beats hard and I can't seem to breathe in all the air that I need. I start sweating, overheating, overthinking.

I push up off the porch and step out under the rain, forcing my legs to stay in a walk, one in front of the other, tucking my bandaged hands into my jacket. The rain is cooling, but it doesn't do anything to put out the panic in my brain.

I walk to the end of the driveway and I don't run away, because I know I'll never find my way back and I don't have anywhere to go. I squint, trying to see if Lola's car is still anywhere in sight, then crouch, like that might help. I can't see anything but green, and brown and green.

I bite my lip, hard. I want to scream.

I don't belong here. I don't belong in any one place, but this is a far cry from home. But that's what I'm supposed to call it now – that's how Esme introduced me to it – "Home."

I mean, I don't really know much about 'home' but I know that you're supposed to be happy there. I guess that, automatically, I don't have a home. I'm not very happy anywhere.

And definitely not here.

I look back at the porch, still in a crouch despite my legs starting to protest, aching. Esme is walking towards me, under an umbrella.

"Bella, honey," she says, loud enough to be heard over the rainfall. I stand up. I'm at least four inches taller than her. "You should come inside, or you'll get sick."

I nod my head, trying to adjust it all in my mind. This woman is supposed to be my mom. Carlisle is supposed to play my dad. This house is supposed to be my home. I'm supposed to be happy here.

Supposedly, this is great.

But it still doesn't help the fact that as soon as I'm alone, I wrap myself in one of the few things I have with me – a ratty silk blanket, and cry into the corner of it.

* * *

I can't sleep.

There isn't a clock in my room, so I don't know the time. But I lay in bed until I can't stand to be still anymore. Then I pace my room, like a caged animal. I sit on the floor and stretch. The room is really big, too big. I'm scared to walk into the shadows.

I walk into the en suite, and look around, surveying it. The floor is tiled, cream, and the sink counter is white marble. The shower is something I've never seen before and I try and figure out how it works but end up confused and with a wet sock.

I leave the en suite and start lapping my room again, walking around and around until I feel like I'm going to burst.

I rummage through my bag – a singular, puny, cary-on suitcase. I briefly saw the size of Alice's closet when she was trying to tow me around before Esme told her to give me a break. It was huge. She had a whole room just for clothes and shit. I don't even have enough to fill this carry on suitcase.

I find the cigarette cartoon at the bottom of the bag and my lighter is in the pocket of my jacket.

I pull on some clothes over my underwear – one of Jake's t-shirts. It's too big and stretched and ratty, but it's comfortable. I slip on a jacket and pick up my sneakers.

It's not hard to move through the house unseen, it's so big. I'm on the second floor. Esme and Carlisle have the room that's down the long hallway from mine. Alice has a bedroom and a closet on this floor, too. There's a music room – I only saw it for a couple of seconds, but noted an electric guitar and a grand piano. And Jasper lives on this floor somewhere, but I don't know where. Alice mentioned something about a couple bathrooms, but I wasn't really listening to her. She talks a lot. Too much.

I make it down the stairs without disturbing anyone. I'm light on my feet. When I get to the door, I start fumbling around for keys. I wouldn't switch on the lights, even if I did know where the switches were. When I find some keys, I try everyone until one finally fits into the lock. I twist and unlock it, stepping outside then turning back around to lock it behind me.

The rain has stopped, so I step away from the porch and walk back down to the end of the driveway before lighting up my cigarette. I frown at the idea that they might have some crazy security measures. I'd be screwed. But from what little I know of this town of Forks, it doesn't seem necessary.

Lola didn't tell me much – which is probably a bad sign – but she said that it was a 'friendly' town, with a very 'communal' feel, which roughly translates to it being a small town filled with gossips.

I lean my forearms against the fence that lines their front yard and inhale deeply, welcoming the smoke. It tastes like shit, and always has, but Jen said it would make me feel better, and I'd have done anything that Jen told me to, regardless. They don't make me feel better, but I'm too hooked to quit now.

Eventually, after I've worked my way through three cigarettes and mulled over the same questions that I've never been able to answer, I turn around and start heading back to the house.

I walk up the steps to the porch and I stick the keys in the door, twisting to unlock it, but then I realise it's unlocked and my head whips around at the sound of a chuckle, squinting to see under the muggy moonlight.

I don't recognise the boy sitting on the porch swing, but the hate that gleams in his eyes makes me think that he somehow recognises me. I blink at him, not sure what to do. I want to run, but that'd be rude.

"How's it going, Princess?"

"Um…"

* * *

 **A/N: So, I'm testing this out. Let me know what you think and if you want this continued.**

 **To my other readers: I know I have other stories that I need to finish - and I am trying to do the right thing and work on them, but I'm struggling with the motivation and I just feel like some of them are dead ends.**

 **Anyway, Let me know what you thought. How do you feel?**

 **\- Laylz**


End file.
